


The Weight Of The World

by AuroraKant



Series: Whumptober2020 [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Also A Cat Named Left Shoe, And A Worried One At That, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Buried Alive, Cuddles, Dick Grayson is Robin, Gen, Gotham City Loves Robin, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Descriptions of Injury, They are so cute!, father-son bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26814781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraKant/pseuds/AuroraKant
Summary: That was when the rumbling and grumbling started… that was when suddenly the floor fell away underneath his feet, and Robin could do nothing to stop himself from screaming, the look on the cat’s face in front of him just as surprised as the one decorating his own face.“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”Robin wasn’t afraid of falling, he loved it actually… but Dick Grayson had come to fear falling with a ferocity unknown to man.Or: Robin gets buried alive underneath an old building while on patrol - Bruce does his very best to save him, his dad-instincts and the worried citizens of Gotham ready to support him.Day 4: Caged |Buried Alive|Collapsed Building
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: Whumptober2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948651
Comments: 26
Kudos: 233
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	The Weight Of The World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CKBookish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CKBookish/gifts).



> Hello and welcome back!!!  
> I hope you guys are enjoying the Whumptober train - and I hope, that you, CK, are enjoying this one especially!
> 
> Comments, Bookmarks and Kudos make me extremely happy!!! <3<3<3

Robin could pinpoint the exact moment it all began to go wrong.

The floor beneath his feet was shifting and rumbling, dust that hadn’t been cleaned in years – maybe even decades – billowing into the air. He had to sneeze, and Robin closed his eyes as his nose erupted like a volcano… when he opened them again, the world was already falling apart.

He had been one his way home from the solo part of his patrol – Batman allowed him thirty minutes per night where Robin was allowed to check Sugarplum Height all on his own! – when he had seen the cat stuck on the top floor of one of the few For Sale buildings in this particular corner of Gotham.

Robin was well aware that Batman only let him check on this part of the city on his own because Sugarplum Height was probably the least crime ridden part of Gotham – but Robin also knew that being responsible and amazing while doing this alone meant that it would be easier to convince Batman in the future to let Robin take on some more daring quest solo.

He had been Robin for two years now after all!

It wouldn’t take long until Robin was just as much of a respected hero as Batman was. And until then? Robin enjoyed helping the old ladies of Sugarplum Height cross the street and punch the occasional purse thief.

But it had been an abandoned cat that had lured him into this building. Robin had shimmied a window on the third floor open, silent and cautious as he neared the frightened and hungry animal. Breaking and Entering was theoretically against the law, but the building was empty except for him and the cat, and Robin was sure that Batman would understand.

That was when the rumbling and grumbling started… that was when suddenly the floor fell away underneath his feet, and Robin could do nothing to stop himself from screaming, the look on the cat’s face in front of him just as surprised as the one decorating his own face.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Robin wasn’t afraid of falling, he loved it actually… but Dick Grayson had come to fear falling with a ferocity unknown to man.

* * *

Bruce’s fist connected with the Riddler’s jaw, as he contemplated asking Alfred for another possibility to help Arkham with the power of Bruce Wayne.

He liked Ed… the man was a weirdo, and Bruce would rather have he stopped kidnapping people all together while planting clever bombs across Gotham, but all deaths that had accrued up until now had been accidental. There had to be another way for Ed to get help than for him to constantly escape Arkham again for another round of annoying mayhem.

Well, the mayhem was done for the night, Batman’s fist a rather forceful final strike.

Bruce watched over the sight in front of him, Ed unconscious on the floor, three of his goons tied up in the corner. The green question marks were still decorating everything on top of the old clocktower, and Bruce let Ed’s riddle replay in his mind one last time:

“If I fall apart, don’t feel sorry, it was the matter of the thing, not its history”

Bruce had found a couple of bombs in old buildings all over Gotham, most of them young for the city but old in comparison to other parts of the country. Their construction material had been faulty – but that was too easy, wasn’t it? Nobody else had come to harm, except for a couple of loan sharks that just lost a lot of money.

Maybe Robin had an idea on what else Ed could have meant. But when Batman turned around, ready to address Robin, the name died on his lips. Robin wasn’t with him yet.

Bruce checked his watch, and if he remembered correctly, Robin had been supposed to be back ten minutes ago. All the parenting books Bruce had studied, told him that it was important to set firm boundaries with a child, and to engage in non-abusive consequences should the child act out or not follow along with the set of rules both had previously agreed on.

That had been another important tip from his books: Talk to your child about why the rules and boundaries were important, so it knew why it should follow along with them. That method also allowed for the child to question the authority of the parent/guardian in a safe environment.

Bruce had done all that and Robin had smiled the entire time, enthusiastically nodding along.

Sometimes Bruce was afraid of how different Dick Grayson and Robin were, of how much of Dick’s personality had already been consumed by the mission… but then he remembered the fierce anger in Dick’s eyes as they found Zucco, and he remembers the tears staining Robin’s cheeks as his parents fell and he couldn’t save them.

Dick needed this – and Robin followed the rules. Usually.

“Batman to Robin. You are late.”

The comm was silent for a moment, static almost too loud over the new earpieces Lucius helped him design. Bruce had been wary at first regarding Alfred’s idea to ask outsiders for support, but in the end… Lucius was almost as much family as Alfred was at this point.

Finally, an answering signal got transmitted, but it wasn’t Robin’s cheery – if slightly creepy – laugh that echoed over the comm, it was a dry and pained cough.

“Robin? What is going on!”

“B- Batman?”

It wasn’t Robin who answered… it was Dick. Dick, who sounded scared and lost and hurt.

Bruce’s heart froze in fear:

“Yes. I am here. Robin… what is happening?”

“I… I think… B, I think a building fell on top of me…”

“What?”

Bruce hadn’t known he could be this afraid. In his entire life, in all the twenty-seven years he had spent on this planet, Bruce had faced innumerous horrors and tragedies and nightmares. His own origin, the night that so prominently shaped him, had been a terror burned into his mind.

And yet… the idea of Robin being harmed pushed his ability to be afraid even further.

“A building… I wanted to save a cat… Oh! The cat!”

A faint meowing could be heard over the transmitter, and Bruce allowed himself to be relieved. At least a tiny, little bit. If Robin and the cat were alive, then the both of them couldn’t be harmed too badly:

“Are you hurt? What is your status?”

“I… I can’t escape and it is dark and scary, Br-Batman. And… and… my leg hurts. And my arm!”

The fear returned. It didn’t sit right with him that Dick was injured, and he liked the fact that he was far away while that was the case even less.

“Try to remain calm, Robin. Where exactly are you?”

“Um…” – Dick’s voice was so tiny, so young, Bruce just wanted to hug him and protect him from the world, but Dick wouldn’t let him – “The third… the third house on Brown Street?”

Bruce was – he checked his navigator – twelve minutes away from the scene. With one last glance in the direction of the unconscious Riddler, Bruce jumped out of the old clocktower, his cape flaring in the shape of a bat behind him.

“I am coming, Robin. Don’t you worry.”

* * *

But Dick was worrying. And how could he not?

His legs were pinned down, with no wiggle room whatsoever, and his right arm hurt every time he even thought about moving it. Maybe he should think about incorporating some longer pants into his Robin costume – he could already feel the scratches and burns down his legs. It was… It was unfair.

Robin had only wanted to help the small cat, and now he was pinned like one of the butterflies in the exotic collection of Jamar in the circus. Dick had liked looking at them as a child, their wings colorful and beautiful – they had reminded him of his parents’ costumes. When he told them, his mom had laughed, and ruffled his hair, her sweet voice proclaiming: “How bad that you are a Robin then, butterfly wings are not the thing keeping you in the air.”

He was Robin!

And now his wings were clipped.

But at least he could hear Batman over the comms and answer him, a bit of Bruce bleeding into the gruff growl Dick had come to appreciate over the last few years. In the beginning Dick had feared that Batman was constantly mad at Robin, until he saw that Batman was just as much as a mask as Brucie Wayne was.

The real Bruce was somewhere in the middle, sometimes a bit gruff, but most of the time an overgrown kid. That’s what Dick’s mom had called men in their late twenties that were still single and had someone else who took care of them.

Dick took that to mean things like that one-time Bruce had helped him built an entire racetrack for his miniature cars from the second floor down to the kitchen. Alfred hadn’t been amused, but Dick had laughed so much, he had ended up crying.

That had been a fun day – even if Dick had ended it in melancholy, the death of his parents always so much more present when… when he was happy.

It was easier as Robin.

Robin wanted to save people. Robin was just that: a hero. He didn’t have to be a kid as well, he didn’t have to face his nightmares every night or endure the bullies in school.

Robin could kick ass and take names and that was all he was.

But… but… for a moment the floor had vanished underneath Robin, and suddenly he had been Dick again, back in that circus tent, back caught in the night that would haunt him forever.

And it was kind of hard to become Robin again, with the darkness pressing down on him, with the weight of the world literally crushing him.

At least he had Bruce over the comms:

“I will be there in four minutes. Is that okay?”

“Yeah… I have company”

And he had the cat he had been trying to save, the small animal purring as it laid on Dick’s chest. Dick had been unbelievably happy when he realized that the cat had survived the caved in building without any trouble, and the soft sounds that escaped her small body were actually quite soothing.

It made the darkness a little less dark, and the stale air a little bit easier to breathe.

“The cat?”

“Yes… I think I am going to name her Left Shoe.”

“Left… Left Shoe?”

Batman’s voice was full of puzzlement, and Dick was tempted to laugh. But he didn’t… he was afraid that it would hurt, or that Left Shoe would move.

“Yep, her breath smells a bit like your left shoe does after patrol. She reminded me of you.”

It was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth. Dick had called her Left Shoe because doing something ridiculous was always better than doing something mundane.

Alfred had once asked him why he liked to learn math hanging from a chandelier instead of sitting down, and Dick had grinned and said it was easier that way. And… well, that was also true, but the big picture, the reason behind it, was that Dick’s mom and dad had cooked while dancing tango, had done their taxes while they were walking on their hands, they had kissed on top of hot air balloons, and married in a McDonalds.

Being normal was easy – but Dick had inherited their eccentric selves and he would always try to honor them. Bruce had the Manor to remember his parents with, Dick had three pictures, a stuffed elephant, and the memory of his father saying _watch_ , before he jumped out of a moving train to do a summersault.

“Are you… are you okay, Robin?”

“Peachy… never been better…”

“Robin.”

“My arm really hurts, B… and… and I can’t move my legs and it is so silly, because I can still feel them and they hurt, but I am just so scared that something happened to them, you know? What if… what if I lose a leg? Or both? What if something bad happened?”

It felt really dumb to unload all of that on Bruce, who could do nothing to help him, at least not yet. But Dick… he was alone in a dark hole underneath a building. And yes, Left Shoe did her best to sooth him, but Dick just wanted… he wanted his parents, but he couldn’t have them, so he wanted the next best thing: He wanted Bruce.

Batman.

But mostly Bruce.

“I’m there soon… I have reached Brown Street. I will be there, don’t you worry.”

“Okay…”

* * *

Bruce worried a whole fucking lot.

He could hear how strong Dick was trying to appear, could hear the way his boy was very deliberately not crying, and his heart ached.

Dick was stronger than anyone he knew, the boy bouncing back from the death of his family with a ferocity that was so full of an appreciation of life, that Bruce could only watch and wonder. He had taken Dick in that very first night, because their tragedies had been so similar, but the more time they spent together, the more Bruce realized that Dick wasn’t his mirror – Dick was his foil.

Another approach to the same problem, another person claimed by Gotham as hers and molded by the Wayne name.

Bruce would do everything humanly – and inhumanly – possible to save his little bird.

Even speeding.

The bike had almost reached the house Dick was buried under, and he no longer had to guess just which building it was, the dust still heavy in the air.

He contacted Alfred before he could think about it:

“Send the Batmobile to my current location, Penny-One.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bruce barely waited for the confirmation before he switched channels again, just so he could hear Dick’s frantic breathing over the comm once more. So, he could continue to try and comfort him:

“I am here, chum.”

“Yay!”

It sounded a bit sarcastic, if Bruce wanted to be honest, but then again, he couldn’t even imagine how scared Dick must be right now. Bruce was no stranger to deflecting his true emotions with some well-placed words and a tone that hid even the barest glimmer of his fears.

What was left of the building didn’t look all that promising, the sound of sirens in the distance already audible. A few neighbors were standing surrounding the ruins in their night gowns, their faces more pensive that truly afraid when they spotted the Batman.

“What happened?”

He tried to mold his voice as deep as possible, the reality of his ward’s situation making it harder to be just Batman… Bruce Wayne wanted to worry as well, and he wanted to ask questions and start rummaging through the debris.

Batman did only ask that one question.

A woman in her late forties answered, her eyes glancing between Bruce and the destroyed house:

“The old Elliot property… it has been a scorn on Sugarplum Heights ever since it was sold in the 90s and nobody wanted to buy it because it needed to be renovated. It crashed half an hour ago… police isn’t here yet, of course, because as always Brown Street is the least important part of Gotham!”

“Did you see or hear anything of importance before it imploded?”

Bruce’s mind was working in overdrive, and he felt as if he had the solution to the problem on the tip of his tongue. The old Elliot property… where else…? Well, there was Thomas Elliot, of course, Bruce’s childhood friend, whose family had fallen out of favor, and lost most of their wealth… Riddler had said something about something old falling apart… but not because of…?

Had all the buildings destroyed tonight been old abandoned Elliot properties? Never renovated? The buildings rotten down to their construction material?

“B?”

Robin! Bruce had almost forgotten about his partner who was buried beneath all that dirt and stone, who was hurt and scared and young.

The woman was still talking in front of him:

“- and then my husband said: ‘Merilyn, I think I can hear a cat screaming or a baby… but someone is screaming’ and I turned around and in that moment a loud WHOOSH was audible, and I thought to myself: ‘Merilyn, that doesn’t sound good.’-“

Batman couldn’t care less, his hand activating his side of the comm unit, his voice soft and caring:

“Hey, Robin. I… I am standing right in front of the building. I will check out the structural integrity of the debris now… I will tell you as soon as I know if we need professionals to dig you out, okay?”

“Okay… B… my legs have fallen asleep…. I really don’t like the fact that I can no longer feel them…”

“Understandable… I will do my very, very best, okay?”

“Yes… Thank you, B.”

“Always.”

The woman in front of him had fallen silent, her mouth slightly agape:

“Robin is down there?”

 _What was it to her?_ Bruce wanted to growl protectively, but while the relationship of the GCPD and Batman had grown stronger ever since Robin had joined him, it still wasn’t an unshakable bond. Being an ass in front of an upstanding citizen was not going to help anyone – least of all Dick.

“Yes. Why?”

“Why didn’t you say so earlier! The boy is here every night and helps Granny Sanchez with her groceries! That boy is one of our own!”

With that she turned around, addressing the other people standing and waiting around in pajamas and nightgowns. Her voice sounded a bit like Alfred’s when he told Dick and Bruce to clean up before dinner:

“People of Brown Street! Robin is buried underneath this building! I want you all to help me and Batman save him! No unnecessary dangers, but I want to see you WORK!”

And instantly the people began to move in tandem, making room for Batman to step closer to the ruins that had buried his… boy. His Dick.

Some of the outer walls were still standing, but all floors had caved in completely, probably thanks due to whatever Ed had planted here to make it explode. The debris size ranged from almost Robin big to fairly small.

Bruce couldn’t see a hint of Dick anywhere.

He activated his comm:

“Robin, do you have any idea of how much debris is on top of you?”

“Um… a lot? It is really, really dark in here. Like… super dark. Not even the tiniest bit of light.”

“Okay… where were you standing before the building caved in?”

“Close… I think I was rather close to the wall facing the street, but… um… I was falling and… and…”

 _And he was scared, traumatized, back in his nine-year-old body watching his loved ones die_ – finished Bruce’s mind for Dick.

Bruce wanted to hug Dick close, and tell him that everything would be alright. As soon as this was over and Leslie cleared him from her doctor’s office, Bruce would cuddle with Dick in front of the big fireplace in the sitting room, and they would watch all the weird Disney movies Dick liked so much.

He would… he would hug Dick and tell him that it was okay, and that he was braver than any hero Bruce knew, even braver and stronger than Superman.

Robin would always stay Batman’s favorite hero.

“It’s alright, chum, I get it…”

Bruce was stepping carefully on the first bit of debris, his weight balanced out – and then he began to search for his kid.

* * *

It was… it was getting uncomfortable down here.

The space was tiny, and while small spaces had never bothered Dick before, his trailer back home not that much bigger than Bruce’s closet, it was beginning to bug him now.

It was small and stifling and the air tasted like dust and sweat and dirty cat.

Dick loved Left Shoe, he really thought they had bonded in their time spent together, her tiny body curled up on top of him, but Dick was ready to move again. Only he couldn’t.

It had been true what he had said to Bruce earlier. He could no longer really feel his legs, the weight of the stone on top cutting off too much of his blood circulation. If Bruce saved him fast enough Dick would have the worst static feeling of all time cursing through his legs… if Bruce came to late – yeah, Dick wasn’t going to think about that.

Instead, he tried to wait for Bruce by searching the ceiling for any change in lighting. In theory that should be easy. It was so dark in here, any amount of light should be really obvious, but then again… his eyes were tired from all the concentrated staring into nothing, and now phantom flashes of neon light were dancing through his vision.

It sucked, not being able to do more.

Dick liked moving and jumping and fighting – Robin liked it even more.

But now… he was going stir crazy… and to be completely honest… it kind of really hurt. It was hard not to focus on the pain with nothing else to do.

His arm was aflame with pain, and Dick feared that it might be broken. The rest of his body was covered in scrapes and bruises… None of that was really all that bad, Dick had seen Batman return from the really dangerous patrols with far worse wounds, but… but… it had been what felt like hours, and now Dick really wanted someone to take care of the pain for him.

Robin might be strong and stoic and unyielding to pain… but Dick Grayson was getting kind of tired of it.

Especially since Bruce was so close by and yet so far away.

Dick had broken bones before, back in the circus, and his mom had always immediately hugged him close, promising him to take care of it – it had often taken some time, and the medicine wasn’t as cool or fancy as the stuff Leslie could do, but his mom had always immediately reacted.

And so had Bruce before tonight.

The one time Dick had gotten lightly stabbed while on patrol, Bruce had dropped everything just to make sure that Dick was okay, that he wasn’t dying or crying – judging by the look on Bruce’s face, the man hadn’t been quite sure what would be worse.

But now… Dick wasn’t crying, but he still wanted someone strong to hug and protect him. He needed someone to look him into the eyes and tell him that everything would be alright.

And he needed to get Left Shoe to the doctor, her breath really disgusting when she licked his nose as if to calm him down.

Bruce’s voice came over the comm unit:

“The emergency responders are here now, Robin, and they are scanning the floor. Apparently, they are searching for an easy way to get to you – hold on, chum.”

“How long… how long have I been down here, B?”

“Approximately ninety to one-hundred minutes… I am sorry, we are doing our best.”

“I know… I know, B…”

It was easier to ignore the bad taste in his mouth or the tingling above his knee with Bruce in his ear. But then again… many things were easier with Bruce by his side.

Smiling for one, was so much easier now that Dick knew Bruce – in the beginning he had feared that he would never smile again, not after what happened to his parents, but now there were days on which Dick couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

That was Bruce’s fault and Dick was grateful for that.

He wanted to be a person his parents could be proud of – Robin attested to that, but so did Dick Grayson and his ridiculous love for math and danger.

And… and he could only become this person his mom and dad would have loved because Bruce was looking after him.

He wanted… Dick wanted a hug from Bruce as soon as this was over.

“Can you tell me something, B?”

“What do you want to hear?”

“Can you tell me about your first night out as Batman? Left Shoe hasn’t heard the story yet…”

Dick could hear the low rumble of Bruce suppressing a laugh and he knew why. Dick always asked for that story. Maybe because it made Bruce soft, or maybe because it showed that Batman was just as human as Robin.

“There are people here, Robin…”

“Pretty, pretty please!”

“Okay…” Batman’s defeated sigh didn’t sound all that rueful… no, it sounded fondly exasperated:

“Back when Gotham didn’t know the Batman yet, a young man decided to save the city on his own. He donned a cape and a cowl, shaped like his biggest childhood fear, and brought safety and justice for the city. But it didn’t always go so smoothly, in his very first night out, for example, Batman stumbled upon a situation in an alley-“

Dick loved the story – and he loved the way Bruce sounded while he told it. Bruce was a surprisingly talented storyteller for a man so grim and dark. His voice was full of light and his eyes usually glinted with mirth whenever he recounted an adventure while bringing Dick to bed.

There was no part of Dick that didn’t love a story told by Bruce, and it was easing the dread residing in his stomach a little, the loneliness falling away – at least for a bit.

It was hard to feel completely alone with a cat on his chest and a voice in his ear, and Dick soaked up this feeling for future days that might be harder.

He wanted to be saved. He wanted Leslie, and a hot bath, and a cookie… and most of all he wanted Bruce.

Batman finished the first story and without waiting for Dick, he started another one, the sounds of stone being moved, and debris being shifted a backdrop to his slow and even voice. It took hours to find Dick, and when the first stone moved above his head, dust raining down onto his face, Dick was almost asleep.

Not even the pain had been able to keep him awake with Bruce telling him tales of Tibetan monks and Bostoner baseball players…

And yet he was wide away the moment the first hint of light filtered into his alcove.

“B?”

“I am right behind the specialists… right behind, I promise.”

“Tell them to watch out for Left Shoe.”

“I will…”

It took what felt like another eternity to completely free Dick, but from the first moment Dick saw another human again, it got easier to breathe.

With his good hand, Dick clutched Left Shoe close to his chest, who meowed once in protest, before she began licking his face. Probably to assert dominance, but Dick couldn’t be exactly sure.

Pain shot up his entire being, his grip accidentally tightening on his cat’s back, when the men managed to pull the stone enclosing his legs away. Dick was still blinking in the blinding light of their flashlights, but even so he could tell that his legs were bloody and bruised, maybe even broken.

But they were there. And from what Dick could see, they would stay there. Recovery would suck, and Dick wasn’t looking forward to the casts or the crutches or the pain – but his legs were still there.

A single tear of relief slid down his cheek, and then… and then Batman was there.

The man in question was roughly pushing past the emergency responders, kneeling down next to Dick, worry so extremely obvious on his face, Dick felt overwhelmed with the knowledge that all that worry was for him.

“Hey… B?”

His own voice was so weak and wobbly, and even though Dick hadn’t cried the entire time he had been buried underneath that building, he felt like crying now.

“Hey, chum. Are you alright?”

“I… I think… I think, I might need help from Agent L…”

“Yeah, I think so too.”

Bruce was extremely gentle as he pulled Dick from the last remnants of stone and dirt, the man not managing to shield Dick from pain completely. But he was doing his best, and Dick stopped himself from crying out, pressing Left Shoe closer against his chest instead.

The cat really didn’t like it, but Dick did his best not to hurt her. He just… he just needed something to hold onto.

Soon they were standing, Bruce cautiously carrying Dick in his arms. Blood was dripping down his hurt arm and his legs, and from what Dick could gather his entire body was dressed in dust and scraps. Leslie would have a field day with him…

Dick felt Batman watch the people in front of them, the people of Brown Street, and the first responders of Gotham… and he knew he wasn’t imagining things when Bruce turned towards them before retreating with Dick:

“Thank you. I will take care of Robin from here on out… but thank you. And take care.”

They were waking towards the car Alfred had probably sent, when Left Shoe demanded attention by meowing. Dick watched her trough half lidded eyes, and then he focused on Bruce, his voice small and pleading:

“We can keep her, right?”

“I am not sure if Ace is gonna like that, chum.”

“But… but Bruce… she saved my life…”

“Okay…”

They continued their way towards the car and this time it was Bruce who broke the silence:

“Are you okay?”

“I am… my whole body aches…”

“Understandable… and anything else? Anything worse?”

“I… I think I want a whole lot of hugs later… and I might cry… I feel quite a bit like crying, right now…”

For a short moment Bruce stopped, and Dick feared that he had said the wrong thing, but then Bruce started moving again, his voice super gentle when he spoke next:

“And that is quite alright… cry as much as you need to. I will be there for you. I am going to protect you.”

“And… and the hugs?”

“Oh, chum, you are going to be sick of hugs before your arm has healed up.”

“Never…”

Dick’s voice was buried underneath the tears spilling from his eyes. He was exhausted, hurt and actually quite traumatized… but Bruce was here, and Bruce was holding him close, promising him hugs and love and companionship.

Dick was allowed to cry – because Bruce would be there to catch him and make it all better.

Because Batman and Robin belonged together.

They were partners.

They were a family.


End file.
